Only Mortal
by Eshne
Summary: [8/100 Theme challenge: White Noise] "No," Malva spits out irascibly. "Amuse yourself. No one is coming in or out those doors."
1. Immortal

Pokemon and its characters from XY do not belong to me.

* * *

**1\. Immortal**

It's an unremarkable day when Serena fully realizes the consequences of what Lysandre's despair has wrought.

Tierno sits next to her on the steps of Parterre way's fountain, content to rest instead of dance as he used to.

Trevor isn't there today as Pokémon research is a demanding enterprise.

Shauna coos at her blue eyed neonate before handing her off to Calem.

Serena shifts uncomfortably but remains planted to her seat,

to a single point in time.

She is pressed with no time to bloom,

to wilt.

It's an unremarkable day when Serena regrets staying behind, all those years ago.

* * *

100 Words. I am looking at 100-prompts livejournal. I hope by being fluid and following the prompts with very loose regulations on myself that I'll be able to do more. We'll see.


	2. Sway

**2\. Sway**

Entering the Hotel Richissime elevator, Serena pressed the lobby button and waited to be transported down. Before the door could close, however, a hand shot out to bar the elevator entrance's path.

"I'm sorry," Serena apologized, "I should have known someon… Malva?" She raised an eyebrow, incredulous. She wasn't going to stay the night? Malva had more sway than Serena thought, to be freely using expensive hotel rooms as rendezvous points and battle rooms.

Then again, she had been one of Flare. Malva was everyone and nowhere, no one and everywhere.

"Getting comfortable, are we?" Malva entered the expansive elevator.

"Not around you," Serena laughed lightly, pressing the door close button. The sooner the door closed, the sooner she could leave. Their formal introduction years ago had been fiery to say the least; '_Hello' _and '_I hate you_.'

"Well then," Malva said, pushing Serena aside to reach for the elevator controls as their lift began its descent, "how Kalos's young champion has learned, now."

_Click_.

The elevator had stopped.

"Malva, what is it now?" The champion demanded wearily, rising to her full height. "I have errands to run tonight."

"Did you think that I was done with you?" The Elite Four member's head whipped around to face Serena.

"You talked, I tried to talk -but you dominated the conversation as usual– and, oh, we battled. What there something I missed?"

Throwing a hand to wave off the unnecessary details, Malva stepped closer. "Hn, you're in for a surprise."

"I… what?" Serena took a step back as she tried to process the situation. Tantalizing, yes, but- "Wait! We can take this back to your room, this isn't exactly private!"

The woman of the Blazing Chamber closed in with a predatory grin, showing the glint of teeth. "Perfect. I expect this to be nothing short of scandalous for one of Lumiose's beloved."

* * *

First draftish! A joke didn't turn out the way I planned, so I cut the story in half and left out the joke. Mostly because I didn't want to be narrating game cutscenes that everyone will, by now, probably had enough of in fanfiction. All we're left with for today's writing is Malva/(game)Serena shipping. Oops.


	3. Sticks and Stones

**3\. Sticks and Stones**

"With a civilization that is almost entirely built by its beasts of burden, one wonders if humankind would have nothing but sticks and stones if not for the crutch that is the pokemon," speaks Lysandre.

His company disagrees with a polite shake of her head. "Not quite so, monsieur. In that case, I believe we would have blazed a different path."

"Impossible."

"Change will always come."

"True," he concedes to the fair Diantha, Lysandre's heart aching for her blind faith. "But therein lies the consistency: slavery then, slavery now, slavery forever. The world is not as beautiful as we'd like."

* * *

Summer vacation's going along swimmingly. I should read a book or two.


	4. Museum

**4\. Museum**

A crowd stared at a cadaver of a thousand years.

Despite the archaeologic team's fervent efforts, they did not have all the missing pieces to the events of three thousand years ago. Unfortunately (or _fortunately, _as some would say), there was one crucial detail missing to the mystery lost to the histories.

The fate of Kalos's king.

"Do you think we have the king of Kalos here?" They talked amongst themselves.

But really, the only thing that truly mattered at that moment was what plagued their nostrils - the pungent scent of a vagrant man. The missing former king of Kalos be damned, the visitors of the museum couldn't think let alone stand alongside this guest within a very long stick's radius. Arceus, sweet creator, what was that smell?

In the name of uncovering the truth, to be exact, the scientists were enormously grateful to have the tall man as the blood hound that he was in the matters of ancient men and their relics. Without him, they would not have continued their discoveries at the pace they did. They just hoped for a more presentable option that did not hail them as laughingstocks and followers of quackery, for this individual walked with a strange compass in his heart which defied all estimations of location, items… anything.

It was an admittedly unscientific approach to the heart of their chronicle sleuthing. Here they thought they would have to peel layers of time's skin, era by era. Yet all they had to do was follow the directive of a man who had appeared out of the blue one day to their labs, adamantly pointing out authentic from the phonies with terrifying accuracy and stubbornness even when they employed the muscle of several security guards and their Arcanine.

AZ had dismissed inquisitive chat once, claiming heavenly guidance in recognizing treasures from the rubbish.

"What do you think?" One woman asked him.

_I am what you want. Display my sins. Love unconditionally. Let others learn from a brother's qualms._ But what were the right words to say? "What I think, matters not."

Encased inside sterile glass and stanchions of smooth velvet rope, lay his younger brother.

* * *

I'm not satisfied with this one but it was in the making for months, so why not. I'll hammer out the kinks some other time.


	5. Practical

**5\. Practical**

With Flare dismantled and its remaining affiliated splintered without true power, the world resumes its daily life as if a year ago global massacre wasn't attempted in the name of _his_ sorrowful creed.

Malva is left to deal with the aftermath, but (though her conviction remains stalwart) she lacks the gracious leadership with which Lysandre spearheaded his cause.

Serena alone handles the brunt of Malva's frustrations. It's practical this way, she argues, lest the woman fall to depravity.

_Hopelessness isn't Malva's brand, nor her cross to carry. _

Their dance may not be productive, but they make no attempt to desist.


	6. Over

**6\. Over**

The duchess of fires again challenges her to a battle in another clandestine meeting at the Battle Chateau. Aristocrats have a reputation to maintain, after all. Malva always convinces herself that this time, this next battle…

It's a battle that is quickly finished as fast as it is initiated. This one unleashes molten fire in heats that subjugates a proud Pyroar's, and the lioness drops in exhaustion. She wonders if Malva would bleed blue.

Malva returns Pyroar to her capsule, more unsatisfied than ever. Though Malva is not far removed from Serena's newly attained status, there is a reason why Serena is champion of Kalos, heroine of the Pokémon world, and Grand Duchess. This one may wonder then, why Malva would bother at all.

But Serena knows better than that - Malva used to have confidence in her battle strategies. With all Pokémon in Malva's party exhausted, Serena turns to leave. "Fly me home, Charzard."

This one follows. Today was a lackluster battle, with no part due to Pyroar. Smoke spews from one's nostrils, disappointment only for the lioness's trainer.

When Malva actually revels in the art of war with its intricate knots and subterfuges, when Malva sends out her beloved lioness with a gleam in her eye; Serena likes that about Malva. Liked that about Malva. Pyroar certainly did too.

But pretense is not in Serena's mood today. The Chateau no longer holds appeal to she who is no longer a neophyte, but a fully realized lady in her own right. She knows the poisonous atmosphere of the socio-politically minded like the back of her own hand. Serena thinks that Malva had greater aspirations than that. But she's not so sure anymore, Serena confessed to this one on some nights.

A string of sharpened French follows suit, "C'est vraiment des conneries!" and Serena is forcefully wheeled around. Serena doesn't like this.

This one doesn't like this.

"Fight me properly," Malva seethes.

"I make time available for you."

Sunglasses clatter to the ground, ripped away to show fiery eyes. "Your heart isn't in it!"

Bared teeth. "When has yours ever been? Did you always need Lysandre to get what you want?"

The sound of a slap.

Malva enunciates every word with dilated pupils. _Don't you dare question my motives! I don't need lies and deceits for a crutch! I am more capable than he ever was!_

Serena brings a hand to her cheek, to find small beads of blood welling in thin lacerations. Malva's nails are sharp for a human. This one bares her teeth, snarl gurgling with fire.

I am more capable than he ever was, repeats Malva.

Blood rises to Serena's cheeks. "_There's_ my girl," she whispers with a heavy exhale.

And suddenly their dance is over, just like that; their circling finally apparent to this one. Serena shoves the other woman against the grand doors (Malva grunts from the handle digging into her back) and locks it after snaking a hand around the waist to bring her closer.

Somewhere in the middle of their shuffling is the crack of glasses on the floor.

This one huffs in exasperation, and Malva retaliates with open mouthed kisses and more scrapes.

So this was it.

The pokeball encloses the world with a click, and this one is left to tranquil silence.

* * *

C'est vraiment des conneries! – a phrase which francetravelguide dot com says means something along the lines of this is really bullshit. Excuse me if it's not accurate.


	7. Speak

**7\. Speak**

Her childhood calls from outside her window

for countless pokeballs and trekking across the continent

excitement thrums within and she pushes forward

Entertainment is what Mab does best and the Champion of fairies bows her head to her

_does this _end

Blazing and red all over

there is flashing lights and screaming voices

suddenly there is silence and the horizon goes south on her

_does _this_ end_

Oh

Her form is a pressed flower

Her morning glories stubbornly crisp

between pages ruminating fragility speaks,

Does_ this end,_

does_ this end _does_ this end _does_ this end _does_ this end –_

Speak of fifty three years and a decade past;

He answers with a voice three thousand years and a decade future:

unfortunately.

* * *

Originally posted 12/25/2015  
Alternate title: Does this End (Immortal prompt continued)

Well, this 100 prompt thing is a dump for bad writing anyway.  
I found an earlier sentence I wrote for the Speak prompt that I had saved back in 5/2015. It definitely has a different approach to the prompt:

**Speak  
**Clothes were strewn across the floor. When the urgency has subsided,  
"Do not speak of this."


	8. White Noise

**Universe: **Pokémon  
**Story Title: **Only Mortal  
**Chapter Rating: **T  
**Summary: **An AU where an adult Serena is a duchess in the Battle Chateau

**8\. White Noise**

Serena is at the pokémon day care near Camphier when she meets Calem by coincidence. She walks in and finds that the boy almost man is handing over two pokéballs to the person at the front when she recognizes his profile. It's been at least a few years since she's seen that face, she thinks. He's grown more handsome. His hair tucked behind his ear nicely accentuates his face.

But she turns right around to make a quick beeline for exit. She'd love to converse with him and yet this isn't the time. Panic racks her and all semblance of logic flies from her brain. She'll just flee for now and holo-cast him later.

Not to mention, his Fennekin produced one or two flames on her shirt the last time they met. It hadn't grasped how to control its embers just yet, but that was a shirt she was fond of and not willing to let go just yet.

"Serena, is that you?"

Oh, Arceus.

"Hey, Serena!" The man brightens up after searching her face for a brief moment, verifying that it's his childhood friend. "Man, how long has it been?"

"Calem!" She beams hastily. "Too long – you've really grown up." Maybe she'll challenge Calem to a battle to make up for it.

"Man, that's just what I was about to say," he says, his eyes sweeping down to look at her full appearance. "You look good. Life's been treating you well?"

"Here and there . . ." says Serena, puffs out her cheek ". . . You must be quite the trainer, now. I heard from my mum that you were going to challenge the Kalos Pokémon League, soon?"

"I already did a few months ago. The champion _slayed_ me."

"That's too bad."

The boy almost man shakes his head. "Her Mega-Gardevoir caught me off guard from the beginning and boy I was in a rut the entire battle through after that."

"Too bad . . ." she repeats with a nod.

There's an expectant pause as they glance at each other.

"So what are you up to?" he asked sheepishly, "I remember you had to stay home."

Um. "I'm… still the same Serena." She rubs her arm equally as self-conscious. "I'm attending Lumiose University for my second year while I stay to help around the house."

"Really? That's great to hear. What are you studying?"

What is she studying? She's studying on how to drop this conversation like it's a hot potato. It's awkward like hell. "…Bioethics."

"Really? What brought that on?"

She smiles grimly. "I started with it as a minor. Majored in cellular biology really, but I thought pokémon bioethics was more interesting."

"I'm proud for you, 'Rena." He claps her on the back. "I'm sure our generation would be better off if they had some more schooling before we went out. I would've been less stupid."

She dismisses his comments off. "Consider your adventuring to be firsthand experience, Calem. I'm jealous."

"Oh bah. Hey – if you have nothing to do today, let's hang out?"

"I was going to take a walk to Camphier," she says lamely, when she's actually going to the battle chateau. Shauna and the rest of the gang hadn't liked the place. Serena can't lie that it rubbed her the wrong way too, the first time.

"That's great," he replies. "I have an inn room there because of some errands. We can talk at a café?"

Serena berates herself. "I'm actually going to visit the Chateau for a sec."

"Battle chateau?" He asks with a start.

"Somewhat," she evades. "I've come and gone, occasionally."

"I haven't, not since I was turned out the first time I tried to look around." He loses focus for a moment. "But that's nothing, really."

The past offense still stings him and Serena is too quick on the uptake to let it pass by her. "No, that's alright to feel that way," she licks her lips in thought. In sympathy, she says, "It is a bit of an invitation only place."

"Not even for a peek, I'm sure. Not for guys like me." He blows a hair strand out of his eyes, showing interest in hearing how she'd gotten in.

"It can't keep out a man who can go and meet Diantha."

"I'm sure I can see Diantha any time," Calem speaks with light irony. "Seriously, I'm not crying over it though. We'll keep in touch, right?"

She bites her lip for a moment, torn. "Yeah."

"That's great," Calem grins openly. "We'll catch up on everything. Maybe next time, you'll see a new champion."

"I look forward to it."

When he leaves, she lets a sigh and finally goes to drop off her charmander at the day care.

–––

The Battle Chateau is on the banks of Riviére Walk, where its front steps are lined with glittering frescos and a red brick path leads to the entrance. On either sides of the wide path are manicured front lawns that are lined with flowers.

She can't blame her friends about having bad experiences with the Chateau. The individuals inside are made of different stuff than the average Kalos citizen. They are still pokémon trainers, but staying at Battle Chateau is about dominating others in a free for all for survival. Frankly, some people just inhabit the building, waiting to pounce on some unfortunate trainer and trounce them for reasons that aren't selfless. Serena can still vividly remember one such man who asked, "To which bed were you invited to have become a Baroness?"

But those are issues of the past, she tells herself. Aristocrats with little to their names but the wealth and spite for one another are of no concern to her now. Serena can't say that her intentions aren't above self-interest either.

Crossing the stairs up to the portico, she nods to the doormen who give a dignified bow. "Good day, Grand Duchess," they greet and let her in.

A grand duchess. The only one to rise to such heights, only after the lovely Kalos Champion. Calem would surely seize and foam at the mouth in envy. But it changes little for Diantha is still the better grand duchess anyway. She walks in the grand vestibule.

The chateau is a grand structure inside that dazzles the viewer with its elegance no matter how many times they visit. Strong pillars of Sinnoh marble hold up the mezzanine and are lifting the ceilings that depicting the heavens with blushing undraped maidens and the divine dogs roaming the tumultuous storm at sea. At the center is a golden chandelier that is decorated with crystals that are layered in multitudes until it concludes with the rubies all in the epicenter. Porcelain tiles were covered by carpets designed with fleur-de-lyses and intricate blossoms bordered by leaves.

Men and women are scattered in the grand room both on the ground floor and high above Serena in the upper floor. Some are clothed in fine formal wear of tuxes or ornate dresses with voluminous skirts that flow down feminine hips, flooding about their person. The rest are dressed fashionable casual, just . They are either chatting for idle pleasure or stalking around in hopes for prey that are lower in rank.

She smiles at an elderly gentleman closest to her. "How are things looking today, Duke Hennessy?"

"My dear Serena! The pickings look slim for a grand duchess, today." Her benefactor wiggles his mustache with fun.

Serena bursts in amused laughter. "I believe the pickings will always look slim from now on."

"That _is_ a thought."

Well, I'll be here for a moment, anyway. I've left Zephyr's young with the day-care."

"And where's the mum, may I ask?"

"Here with us today," Serena pats a pokéball on her belt, "she's been quite nice about letting me know that she's been far too cooped up since she bore her first charmander egg."

The man chuckled. "The poor thing must have been irate to get some fresh air." He thinks to himself for a moment. "If I do recall, Zephyr will be happy to hear that Malva graces us with her presence today, my lady. It'll be a spectacular battle indeed."

"Thank you, monsieur." She nods to the elder and he bows his head graciously in return.

The grand duchess straightens herself out once more, rises to her full height, and rolls back her shoulders. She moves through the crowds, maneuvering her way without disrupting a hair or hem of another. She had roamed these halls in the past just as much as the next aspiring aristocrat had. But she's allowed her own private room, a benefit that is courtesy of her accomplishments.

She gives a compliment to a mustached gentleman who sports a fancy pin on his jacket's lapel. Finally finding her way to the refreshments, she picks up some punch and moves on into the halls.

"Your Grace," A voice calls out, "Grand Duchess Serena,"

Serena turns her head to her shoulder. "Yes?"

A servant bows deeply to her. "A man has taken note of your presence this evening and asks that you grant him one moment."

"A man?" She asks. "Who is this man?"

"A former pupil of your mentor Sycamore, he mentioned," answers the servant.

"Really?"

Serena learns that Lysandre waits for her in the leisure room and thanks the manservant for his time with a tip. After a chat with the son of Lord Shabboneau, she begins her approach to the room in question.

Parting drapes that cover the doorway, she gives a quick look around the place.

She turns her head to the right to find a sharp faced man with a proud jawline and equally harsh crimson hair sitting in an armchair. "Lysandre?"

"You look marvelous, my dear."

Entering the room, Serena says, "What brings you to the Chateau? I hope you've had a good time here."

"To pay my respects to Malva."

Her eyebrow raises. "She causing trouble again?"

"She proposed that I find her in here today," admits Lysandre, "when she knows I'd much prefer Lumiose Cafés."

"Yes, Cafés sound more like you."

"It sounds just like Malva, to have me _here_." He grumbles at the clinking of glasses and gaily chatting outside. "We were just about done when I heard your name called. I don't know how you keep up around here."

"I have a bit of flair with handling peons," the Grand Duchess grins wickedly.

"Truly, you've risen above them all as I first suspected. To top it off, you're still a fresh spring breeze."

This grand duchess crosses her arms in mock indignity. "Oh? Was I supposed to be an old coot any time soon?"

"Of course not," replies Lysandre genuinely. He moves forward to kiss each cheeks in good will. "Before I bid you adieu, here's a little something from me. Take care of it." He closes her hand around a card.

Chuckling, Serena pushes him off with a flick of her hand. "Run along, Lysandre. Run far away from here."

Lysandre gives a mock shudder to show his regard for the nobility. "Should I have to face these doddering fools in the future, I fully intend to send myself off to the nearest deserted mountain and proclaim myself a hermit." Stepping out of the leisure room, Lysandre watches something to his left for a moment before snorting and seeing himself out.

Looking down at the card in her hand, she finds a flame insignia embossed on it.

–––

"So you've come," says a svelte voice. Malva is privately lounging on a chaise longue upholstered in red embossed velvet in a secluded room. She nurses a glass of wine in her hand. For once, Serena can see, the fiery trainer is willing to set aside her scorching temperament and interact with her that does not in any way involve flames, pokémon, and battle.

The grand duchess notes to herself that maybe alcohol is the key to calming Malva's spirit. "I aim to please you, after all."

"Humph," snorts Malva. "Good timing. I've been meaning to speak to you too."

"Am I going to be bullied like you did to Lysandre?"

"Bully? I don't know what you're talking about." She sips her red wine.

"You know he doesn't enjoy Battle Chateau."

"So if he doesn't? He needs more exposure, in my opinion."

"He's a grown man. He has his own company to mind." And he doesn't need this place to obtain exquisite battle experience, challenges, glory, or the prize.

"All the better to leverage that for himself, here."

Serena pauses. "I'm sorry, you sounded like you cared about what other people thought of you. Did I hear that right?"

"You're heard wrong. The people here are white noise to me. I tune into them when I wish, use them as I please, and then I tune them out. I'm merely pointing out that Lysandre has not taken advantage of their stupidity. It's almost a gold mine out here."

"Malva!" The Grand Duchess scolds. "Lysandre would do no such thing."

The pink haired woman turns up her nose in disagreement. "Quiet. You take up all the oxygen with your unnecessary talking with these losers. Just give them a good thrashing and move on."

"I give them respect."

Malva pointedly coughs her disbelief into her wine before running a finger along the rim of her wine glass. "Is that so?"

Malva has seen Serena's outbursts before with some spiteful noble before, Serena remembers. She chooses to fans herself with a hand. "Maybe."

"I believe you," she says with reservation, before switching to another topic. "Your father was in palliative care up until two years ago."

Serena thinks hard before saying, "Is this what you needed to talk to me about?"

"And you still," Malva says, "need the earnings from the battle chateau?"

She didn't come to have her mood ruined. No, she won't give Malva the satisfaction of an answer. "So. I guess I'll be the one to challenge you, today?"

"I didn't come to battle today." Malva says, intent on following her course. "Is that why you keep coming here?"

"I saw Lysandre leave, of course." Serena affirms. "But I don't think a duchess can ignore when a glove is thrown."

But Malva doesn't care for stations in life, and this Serena know well. The world was her oyster. "I do as I please, girl. Perhaps I don't want prize money from the likes of you. Stop avoiding the question." Taking from Serena is much too easy when Serena doesn't struggle in letting go. Except when she does.

Serena smiles and take a few steps to the closed door, where she left her hand on the door handle. "Not in the mood to lose, hm? I'm feeling generous today. I'll just leave to my rooms, then."

"Se. Rena." Malva says, pulling herself up to an upright position and folding her legs in. She motions to her side on the newly made space. "Sit."

"Fine, but only for a moment." Serena complies. "Now what?"

"Do whatever you do to amuse yourself while you wait for others to battle you." The Elite Four trainer sets aside her glass and rests her arms around her torso. "But don't think anyone else will be entering my room today. Until you say something," she continues with a glint.

"Malva!" Serena admonishes for the second time today and is promptly ignored.

"You don't need the chateau anymore."

Not this again. "Malva –"

"Stop that nonsensical studying and take a day off. You haven't gotten more than the bug badge."

"–I can't, Mal."

Malva growls, grabbing Serena's shoulders only to open her mouth and say nothing.

"Careful, you might eat a fly."

"Girl."

"I like the chateau," tries Serena.

"No, you hate this," Malva lifts an arm, indicating to the room surrounding them. "You hate stagnating here and it's simple. Move on."

"I –"

"Or don'tleave it _entirely_. Just give yourself some time and travel."

"–I love to, but I can't."

And Malva's temper finally floods out. "Why," she snarls, "is it only _I can't_ with you!"

"Malva, you know why."

"Do I, Your Grace? Because it seems that you're just like everyone other damned person in this establishment. Skulking around and becoming _Grand Duchess_–"

"That's. That's hurtful. Please don't be like that."

The fire trainer looks like she is going to beat some sense into Serena, though she winces in guilt. "Girl, you're breaking my heart if this is all you think you have going for you. Drinking tea with one pinky out and smiling when you really want to skewer them on a stick."

"Malva, I can't vie for gym badges when I'm not a child. I have responsibilities!"

"_So?_ You incorrigible wench! You'll die letting people trample over you in the name of _responsibilities_?"

"Perhaps."

"_No_." They're almost nose to nose, with the way Malva has aggressively come closer.

Serena leans back raises a hand to her brow.

Malva regards Serena with a sour expression and plops back to her pillows in anger. She turns to her side and stares off at a wall.

"Would you like me to leave now, Mal?"

"No," Malva spits out irascibly. "_Amuse yourself_. No one is coming in or out those doors."

Serena exhales. Drawn to Malva's shapely thigh peeking through the diamond cutouts of her slacks, Serena strokes the fair skin with the pad of her thumb.

The leg jerks in response.

Serena almost chuckles at that. The pair of them are too stubborn for their own good. Feeling a glare in her direction, Serena pouts. "You told me to sit and amuse myself."

"I hate you."

"If our half friendship has taught me anything, you love and hate in equal measure."

". . .I _hate_ you," repeats Malva.

* * *

**First Draft Started 1/2/2016 2349  
****Originally posted 1/6/2016  
****Author's Notes: **Write over 1k in words without erasing, rewrites, and mulling over small details.

_Extra fun paragraph I couldn't fit:  
"Serena and Diantha. Two. Either these people are stupid or they can't count to ten, even with the help of their fingers. Serena doubts that the Counting vampire on Santalune Street can help there, but she can imagine it now. 'One! There is one grand duchess! Two! There are two grand duchesses!'"_


End file.
